


Under the Clouds

by Bliss_Smith



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, Falling In Love, Telling Stories, love and tragedy in times of war, or something like that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-06-27 20:01:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15692391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bliss_Smith/pseuds/Bliss_Smith
Summary: More nighttime walking and talking. Part 2 of the set.While hearing Steve Valentine ask "have you ever licked a lamppost in winter" is a true treat, the whole 'have you ever' scene is one of my least favorites. So I fixed it :-D





	1. Chapter 1

“Why did you look so surprised the other night? When I said I’ve never...” She trails off, wondering how to put it. She knows she can say anything around him, he won’t judge her, but she learned a long time ago: to be so forward is one of the reasons she never has. Still, she knows if she can’t handle this in a grown-up manner, she has no business doing it in the first place. “When I said I’ve never had sex.”

“Did I? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. Didn’t mean anything by it.” He gets credit, too, for only blushing a little. For not avoiding looking her in the eye.

“You did, surprised and something that looked almost disappointed.” 

She lets the silence build, lets him find his words as he rubs her hand. She’s still not sure if she should be hurt that he was so surprised. She doesn’t think she should, that he would be like that, but history can be pretty loud sometimes, nagging like an old fishwife. 

“It’s not that I think you’re fast, or whatever word they use to make you feel ashamed of yourself. You’re just so, everything. You’re strong and funny and so beautiful, I just couldn’t imagine someone hasn’t been interested in you like that. Or that you wouldn’t be interested in return.”

He stops and turns to her, standing just close enough that she can feel his heat. She wants to step closer, push herself against him, let the magnetic pull of what they are together draw her to him, put her where she belongs. She bites her cheek and makes herself stand still, knowing he’s nowhere near done talking.

“And yeah, I suppose I was disappointed, in a way. I was really hoping one of us would know what to do because I surely don’t. Which is probably no surprise to you. Chantry boys aren’t known for that kind of thing.”

She smiles at that. “A little bit of a surprise. For the same reasons. I can’t believe none of the girls tried to snap you up.”

“Well it’s not like they didn’t try. I just never found any of them worth the risk. I swore I’d not turn another Theirin bastard loose in the world, and I didn’t want to be forced into marriage just because I couldn’t keep it in my pants. I heard more than enough conversations from the other templars about such things.”

“Ah, that explains how you knew to ask if I was pregnant.”

“Can I ask why? If you don’t want to tell me that’s okay. You know I can’t help but wonder.”

She turns and starts walking again, needing the movement to help gather her thoughts. Needing, too, some distance between them. It’s not yet time to press herself against him like she wants, and to keep standing there the impulse would be too strong.

“When I first started training to fight, everyone told me it was a sure way to guarantee the boys wouldn’t like me. Father and Fergus were the only ones who told me any boy put off by my talent wasn’t worth having. That I should wait for the ones who won’t be intimidated. Turned out that first one only wanted a trophy. I let him put his hand in my bodice and he told everyone. In the middle of town, surrounded by the very group of boys who didn’t have the courage to even look me in the eye.”

She has to look at him, needs to see his expression. She thinks it will be nothing but kind. The fishwife begs to differ, expecting some form of  _serves you right_. Turns out they’re both wrong; he’s grinning from ear to ear.

“I can’t wait to hear what you did.”

That right there, is there anything better? He already knows her well enough to know how she probably reacted, and he’s nothing but proud. Whatever she says, he’s going to love it. She wants to tell him how much that means but she can't make herself. He already knows, and she won’t be able to do it without crying. She needs to hold on to her tears for the rest of her story.

“I broke his hand. I didn’t have my sword to cut it off, so I smashed it against the edge of a planter, trying to break it off his wrist to hang over my bed for my own trophy. Fergus heard the yelling and pulled me off him before I could. If it wasn’t for that, I probably would have succeeded. No one else dared come near me.”

“That’s my girl,” he says, so proud he wears it like a banner.

She wants to stop talking, wants nothing more than to let him kiss her like he wants, like she wants him to. She makes herself keep walking, knowing she needs to tell him the rest. They can’t go any further until she does.

“As you can imagine, the Highever boys didn’t want anything to do with me after that. The ones from elsewhere who did I couldn’t trust. I wasn’t going to let that happen again. It took four years before I was ready to give boys another try.”

He reaches out to put a gentle hand on her shoulder, to make her stop so he can talk to her. “You don’t have to tell me. If it hurts, or you just don’t want to, it’s okay. I won’t demand your answer.”

It’s all she can do to stand still, to keep her chin from quivering. She can’t make herself look at him, not yet. “Yeah, I do. It was bad, and it’s liable to come back and bite me. If it does, I think we’ll both handle it better if we’re aware of it.”

He steps to her and puts his arms around her, holding her against his chest long enough to kiss the top of her head. When he steps back, he takes her hand and starts walking, gently leading her. She thinks he might say something, but he doesn’t. He gives her all the silence she needs to find the right words.


	2. Chapter 2

“First thing you should know is I’ve not told this story to anyone. Which probably means I’m going to cry or throw up. Something charming.”

He squeezes her hand and gives a small smile. “I’ll hold your hair back if you do.”

After that there’s nothing left to do but let the words fall out. “He was the son of my mother’s best friend. They tried to push us together for most of the last year. He wasn’t from Highever, so he didn’t know he was supposed to be scared of me. He was nice and respectful, and he didn’t seem put off by my reputation as a fighter, and when he flirted it was nice. It felt good that someone thought I was attractive just as I was, and I was tired of waiting to find out what all the fuss was over sex. When he came to ride out as Father’s second, I invited him up to my room for the night.”

“Did he hurt you?” His voice is quiet, but she thinks that’s on purpose, that if he speaks any louder he’ll shout loud enough to fell trees. At least, that’s what the anger in his eyes suggests.

She wishes that was the case. Maker knows it would be easier to deal with than the horror she’s about to recount. “No, he was very sweet. He made sure I was okay. That I was enjoying myself.  We got as far as naked in my bed and then Sugar started barking. There was noise out in the hall and Dairren got up to check and when he opened the door one of Howe’s men put an arrow through his chest.” 

She thinks about going ahead and falling apart, it seems a good enough time, but if she does she’ll have to come back to the story at least once more. Better to just finish it. “If he hadn’t been there, I would have been asleep when they got to my room. If I was awake anyway, I would have been the one opening the door. His being there, his death, gave me the chance to grab my sword and shield. To survive.”

She wants to tell him the rest, spit out the bone-numbing horror of having to fight naked, having to listen to Howe’s men call her names and tell her what they were going to do before they killed her, what they’d do to her corpse after. She can’t make herself. It’s too much, or maybe just too soon. Maybe one day. For now, he can see enough of that truth in her eyes.

He sits down on the grass and opens his arms, inviting her into his lap for the first time. She doesn’t wait, won’t let herself hesitate and overthink it, won’t do anything but gratefully accept the comfort he’s offering.

She expects to cry, shouldn’t she, after reliving such a thing? But the tears won’t come, they’re chased far away by the feel of his arms around her. The way it feels to be pressed against his chest like she is.

“I keep trying to come up with some kind of joke. Anything to make it less horrible.”

She can feel him smiling when he kisses the top of her head. “Give it time; you’ll come up with something.”

“How about you? Surely you have something. You’ve never let me down for a joke.”

“I can’t laugh. I’m too busy trying to get over the stark relief. No matter how bad I turn out to be at this, at least I know I can give you a better time than what you’ve had.”

“Nowhere to go but up, that’s good enough.” She gathers her courage again, finding it far easier in the warmth of his sturdy lap. “If there’s never anything more between us than this right here, I’ll still be happy. I don’t want you to feel like you have to. That I expect it or else.”

“Do you want more than this?” He sounds thoughtful, curious even. Like he doesn’t already know the answer. Or maybe he just wants to hear it out loud. In her voice rather than just in his head.

“You know me, I want everything. But these days, everything is you and what you want. That means more to me than what I want.” She waits a moment, in humorous anticipation. When nothing happens, she lets out a laugh. “I can’t believe my mother didn’t come back from the dead just to crow about that.”

“You’re not the spoiled bitch she wanted you to think you are.” He’s still quiet, but isn’t there a thread of anger in his voice? She thinks maybe so.

“I really want to argue about that, but the minute I tell you you’re not the worthless nobody everyone made you feel like, you’ll call me on it.”

He laughs at that, the deep, rich one she’s coming to love so much. It leaves her breathlessly happy, that he’ll make such a sound for her. “You know I will, my lady.” 

Another quick kiss to her crown and he’s lifting her up as he moves his legs, opening them to set her between them. He keeps hold of her hands, not breaking contact. Just changing it, and as naïve as she is, she thinks she knows why. Ever the gentleman, her Ser Theirin. At least she manages to not look at his crotch for proof.

But maybe, too, it was just so he could look her in the eye as he talks. “That’s what makes this so special. Why I want to go slow. We’re so good together, so good for each other, and I’m so afraid my excitement will lead me astray. That I’ll hurt you in some way because I don’t know what I’m doing. I can’t bear the thought of that.”

That’s not what scares her; she thinks they’ll do all right by each other. More than all right, and that’s what makes her want to run in fear: the price tag that will come with a love such as this. How much it will cost. How much she’ll be willing to pay. But is there a choice? How could she ever not choose this? Choose him?

She leans over to kiss him, a soft press at the corner of his mouth. “No rush, ever. We have time enough to wait for the right moments.”

“And you have enough confidence in the two of us to know when those moments are?” He’s kidding, she knows that, but he’s just as serious, mixing the two in the way he does, the way that makes her heart float up to her throat.

“Maker, no, we’re bound to mess up somewhere along the way. But I do have enough that we’ll always find the joke. That we’ll still want to keep trying.”

He laughs and returns the kiss and the feel of his smile against her skin is more than enough.


End file.
